If There Be A Maker, He Will Have To Beg For My Forgiveness
by Vaalco
Summary: Aedan Cousland is taken prisoner and held at Fort Drakon. He is subjected to violent torture at the hands of his "interrogator" as he waits for release from the place that is said to be the final stop for prisoners and criminals. How long can he withstand the torture and torment before his spirit is broken? Will he ever see the woman he loves again? (Contains scenes of torture)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: For those who are not familiar with the quote, it was carved into the walls of a concentration camp during WWII. I have had this story swimming around in my head for a while and decided to do something with it. Reviews are welcome and encouraged and I will try to regularly update.**

* * *

 _Fort Drakon._

It was a place that everyone in Denerim knew, but scarcely ever saw. Those who were unfortunate enough to see the inside of the prison seldom had hope of ever being released before their inevitable death. Even the bravest of men felt the shivers run down their spine as the anguished screams from the tormented prisoners echoed in the night. The stories that seeped through the stone carried with it the horrors the prisoners were subjected to during their "interrogation." The prison was meant for those accused of the most heinous crimes one could imagine. Rapists, murderers, traitors-all of them found their way into the interior of the fortress, and despite how hardened the criminal may be in the outside world, eventually their spirits became as broken as their bodies. Day after day men and women were brought inside the walls, many never to be seen again. But every night carried with it the sound of new terrified screams begging for the mercy they would never receive.

The torturer who was simply referred to as Holden had been in his current position for nearly ten years and not only was he _very_ good at his job, he thoroughly enjoyed it. Nothing sent shivers of excitement through him like the way his victims begged him for mercy. The sound of a whip striking flesh made him tingle with power, giving him the pleasure that he had been denied since childhood. His greatest pleasure came when a noble bastard found their way into his company, being forced to kneel for the first time in their privileged, spoiled lives. It was a rare occasion when he was blessed with the treat of flogging a high born to within an inch of their life, their status and wealth providing a shield to keep them away from his fortress.

Today was an especially special day for not only did Holden have the great pleasure of being brought a high born bastard, but this particular bastard happened to be one of the elusive Grey Wardens. Holden had seen many types pass through his walls, but the feel of Grey Warden flesh being torn by his hand was something he had not yet had the pleasure of experiencing.

Aedan Cousland, last of the Couslands and member of the now near extinct Grey Wardens knelt on the cold hard stone floor, his arms shackled above his head. He was naked from the waist up, leaving his torso fully exposed. Droplets of sweat rolled from his forehead, though rather from heat or fear Holden could not say for certain.

"I must say," Holden said calmly as he circled Aedan, eyeing him closely. "It is rare indeed that I have someone of your status and position grace my halls. I have heard many tales of you, each more thrilling than the last."

Aedan smirked as he stared up at the man who was no doubt about to inflict a considerate amount of pain on him. "If you desire an autograph, I fear it may be difficult to do so with my arms shackled as they are."

Holden caressed the handle of his favored tool; a custom made whip crafted specifically to fit his hand. At the end of the sturdy wooden handle were three short lengths of chain, each seven links long. The ends of the final link had been crafted to a sharp point, making a brutally effective weapon for tearing flesh from the body. He gently ran the lengths of the chains across Aedan's shoulders as he circled around him and stood at arms length, the space that would inflict the most amount of damage.

"You laugh now, _Warden_. But let's see how long your sense of humor lasts."

Aedan flinched as the sharpened edges of the chains ripped into his back, leaving long gashes and immediately drawing blood. He managed to keep from crying out in pain, refusing to give this man the satisfaction of a verbal response. Aedan tried not to imagine what the scene must look like as he felt the hot sticky liquid rolling down his back. Holden however looked on in satisfaction as he gazed upon his work. He liked to think of unmarked flesh as a blank canvas, and he the artist who would create a masterpiece across the area. Little bits of flesh clung to the edges of the whip like souvenirs to mark his latest creation.

Holden walked around and faced Aedan, roughly shoving the handle of the whip under his chin and forcing him to look up at him. This was his favorite position; it let his captive know that he was in charge. The images of the helpless look that came over everyone'e faces eventually was what lulled him to sleep every night. And the look always came, no matter how hardened or strong their resolve. Aedan looked back at him with the same stubborn resolve that many before him had shown, and just like all the others Holden would break him. This was the part of Holden's job that he most enjoyed for he loved a challenge, and nothing gave him greater satisfaction than finally seeing the light go out of a prisoner's eyes and finally give in and accept his inevitable fate.

Holden slammed a heavily armored fist into Aedan's face, eliciting a small grunt of pain. Holden gripped Aedan's hair and yanked his head back, putting his face inches from his. "I know what you are thinking. It's what they all think: that you are unbreakable. But trust me, _My Lord_ I _will_ break you, and when I do, you will beg for death to release you."

Aedan spit blood into his face and gave a small smirk. "If your plan is to torture me with your rancid breath, I fear I may give in sooner than either of us expect."

Holden wiped his face and sneered in a way that told Aedan he would pay dearly for the offense he had just committed. Holden's grip was so tight on his prized whip that the knuckles on his fingers had gone white. He placed himself behind Aedan and struck out with as much strength as he could manage. Aedan could not hold back the cry of pain as he felt the flesh being torn from his back. Blood splattered against the stone wall as another blow from the weapon tore into him. The last thing Aedan thought of before his world went black was a flash of flaming red hair, and the heavily accented voice that he had come to love.

* * *

Aedan wasn't sure how long the "interrogation" had lasted, but to him it felt like an eternity. He was beaten until he lost consciousness, only to wake up and have the entire process start over. He had been questioned about the Wardens, what their plan was and if they had planned to commit treason against Queen Anora. He had been made to answer for the murder of Arl Howe, the death of King Cailan and the next move of Arl Eamon.

Aedan had managed to keep his mouth shut except for the occasional cry of pain. The only thought that had kept him going was the knowledge that Leliana would be waiting for him, that she and the rest of his companions would not abandon him and would be trying to find a way to release him. At least he had kept Alistair from facing the same torment that he was now experiencing. No doubt insisting that Alistair stay behind while he infiltrated the Denerim palace is what had saved him from being next to Aedan in his cell.

He was assisted back to his cell by two guards who half carried, half dragged him to the small cell in the farthest corner of the keep. He was forcefully shoved through the barred door, grunting in pain as the guards rough hands pressed against the torn flesh of his back. He fell forward onto the hard stone floor, landing on his hands and knees. The loud banging of his cell door closing echoed in his ears, followed by the retreating footsteps of his captors.

His eyes roamed around the cell, stopping as an engraving caught his eyes. Carved into the stone walls of the cell were words left by previous prisoners, though rather left by one prisoner or carved by several over time it was impossible to tell. The words stared back at him, echoing the words that so many who had come before him must have spoken to themselves.

 _If there be a Maker, He will have to beg my forgiveness._


	2. Chapter 2

_One thousand nine hundred and ninety seven..._

Aedan leaned against the cold stone wall, staring blankly at the far corner of the damp cell where a small puddle of water had formed, caused by the relentless dripping of water coming from the ceiling. At first, the constant sound of the drops falling into the remains of its predecessors had driven Aedan to the very edges of sanity. Now however it had become something of a comfort to him, it offered a small semblance of consistency, something his life had recently been lacking.

Aside from that, it gave his mind something to focus on instead the distant, tortured screams that echoed throughout the fortress. There was no reprieve from the tormented screams that rang out at all hours of the day and night. At first the screams had chilled Aedan right down to his soul, but his perspective had soon changed once he had heard the unmistakable sound of a death rattle, finally granting the death that the victim had been begging for.

 _One thousand nine hundred and ninety eight..._

Aedan had nothing to indicate how long he had been held captive. He did not know if it was night or day, he did not know the hour, he did not even know how long it had been since his last "interrogation". The only way he held any sort of time was counting the number of drops that fell into the small pool. Time was the first thing that left you when you entered Fort Drakon, it remained on the outside and faded away with the rest of the world that the unfortunate souls were forced to leave behind.

Physical strength was the next thing to leave. The constant beatings paired with the deprivation of food and sleep was enough to bring even the strongest of men to their knees. It was not long until they were unable to walk, leaving them to be dragged to their next beating, or if they had served their purpose, to their deaths. When their end finally came their bodies did not receive a proper burning or burial, they were merely thrown into a shallow grave. If there was no more room they were simply left out for the crows to feed on.

Hope was the last thing to leave, and when it did the inmates found themselves looking forward to the day when they would no longer be forced to live in the constant pain and misery that had become their lives. It was not long before the inmates began to beg their captors to kill them, welcoming the embrace of death that would take them from this life.

Thankfully, the constant dripping of the water had thus far allowed Aedan to maintain all three of the things that would ensure his survival.

 _One thousand nine hundred and ninety nine..._

His eyes roamed to the etching carved into the wall, staring at the words that served as the only sign that someone else had existed in this cell before him. He tried not to imagine what kind of a fate the poor soul had gone on to meet.

 _If there be a Maker..._

Aedan allowed his thoughts to wander, as they so often did since he had been in this situation. His memories were the only part of him that remained safe from his captors. As long as he held onto to his thoughts, he had a place to escape to, and a reason to keep fighting. His mind filled with the images of red hair, a beautifully accented voice, and a smile that Aedan would do anything to protect.

Leliana was a firm believer in the Maker, believing Him to be the reason for setting her on the path that Aedan was following. Her belief was a stark contrast to Aedan who had let his faith die with his family. Yet despite their opposing views, the two had managed to fall in love even amidst of all the chaos.

He closed his eyes, his mind instantly sweeping him away from the prison. He was instantly back at lake Calenhad, reliving one of favorite moments.

The nights had become something of a reprieve for Aedan. It was when the world seemed to finally slow down and the rag-tag group of heroes could finally take a breath and reflect on the events on the day from a different perspective. It was when they could regroup and talk of things other than war and death, a time for them all to take a moment to simply exist, rather in solitude or chatting with their comrades. It was the time when they could step away from the burdens of the world and simply be another resident of Ferelden, rather than someone trying to save it.

The group had successfully managed to save what was left of the Circle of Magi from being completely obliterated. Morrigan had verbalized her displeasure from the moment Aedan had agreed to help the mages. She was even less thrilled when it was announced that the party would grow by one. It had taken three minutes for Morrigan and Wynne to distrust each other, and seven minutes before the rest of the party had placed themselves between the two women before they had the opportunity to destroy Ferelden before they could save it.

They had decided to make camp on the shore of Lake Calenhad for the night. The hour was late and none of them had the desire to stay the night inside the tower that had only hours ago been overrun with abominations and blood mages set on destroying everything in their path. It was equally less appealing to set out in the dead of night with tempers running high as they were, so the only logical conclusion was to set up camp at the edge of the lake for the night.

Morrigan had ventured off to find her own camp while the rest of them began setting up their tents and bedrolls in a circular fashion. Aedan had volunteered to take the first watch, something that had become something of a tradition as he found sleep to be something of a foreign concept the past months. Leliana had volunteered to accompany him, a fairly recent development but one which Aedan appreciated. The two had become close during their time together, and for reasons that remained a mystery to Aedan, she had managed to penetrate the carefully constructed walls that he had built around his heart. She had reawakened a part of him that he thought was long gone, and despite his efforts to keep her at arms length she had somehow managed to capture his heart.

The love that had developed between them had come as a surprise, but a welcome one. Her gentle and caring demeanor was a stark contrast to the darkness and pain that had become his life. She showed compassion to those who did not always deserve it. She would not think twice about giving her last sovereign to a hungry child who had lost a parent to the Blight. She would not hesitate to put herself in danger to protect those she cared about, and she could spar just as well verbally as she could with a dagger. If Aedan had to dream up the perfect woman for him, that woman would not hold a candle to Leliana.

His head was laying in Leliana's lap as she ran her fingers through his hair. They were staring up at the stars on a cloudless night as Leliana's sweet voice sang softly causing a sense of calm to wash over Aedan. He felt safe with her, secure, and the problems of the world melted away when they were able to have moments like this.

Leliana's voice faded and she let out a small sigh. Aedan glanced up, meeting the deep blue eyes he had come to adore. She gave him a smile and her eyes wandered up to the endless stars covering the sky.

"How can you have moments like this, see things like this, and still not believe?"

It was not an accusation, and Aedan found himself searching for the words to properly explain why he no longer believed in or trusted the Maker.

"My last night at Highever, I was in my quarters with a, um, a friend."

Leliana's features darkened slightly but she did not push the issue.

"Mathias started barking and we heard shouting coming from the corridors. It all happened so fast I didn't have a chance to stop it. Iona opened the door and...I couldn't save her. I prayed to the Maker to let her live, to let her return to her daughter. I prayed that he would not allow an innocent child to become an orphan. She died in my arms before I could finish praying." He sat up and stretched his legs out, staring out at the blackness of the lake. "My mother and I ran to my brother's quarters, and I prayed that I would not find his wife and son dead. Oren took his last breath no doubt praying to the Maker not to let him die. After that I kept praying that my father was not hurt, that my family would make it out. That I could kill Arl Howe for what he had done. When Duncan dragged me out of the castle, when I looked at my parents for the last time, I realized that the problem wasn't that I was not praying hard enough. It was that nobody was listening."

Silence fell between the two as Leliana processed what she had just heard. Aedan did not share his past very often, and when he did she felt her heart break for him. He was not a weak man, but even the strongest of men would break under what he had been forced to endure. Yet he continued to fight for a world that had condemned him, to defend those who would just as soon see him be put to death. When Leliana had seen all of these things, it had been impossible not to fall in love with him.

He looked at her with a tenderness that he held only for her. "I didn't think that I could ever be happy again. I did not want to be close to anyone ever again, I didn't think it was worth the pain that comes along with it. I don't know if there's a Maker, but when I look at you, I believe that maybe there could be."

 _Two thousand..._

Aedan's eyes snapped opened as the sound of heavy footsteps and the clinking of keys broke the illusion. His heart began pounding and his stomach began to churn. Despite the fear that he felt, he nevertheless managed to grin widely as the guards unlocked his cell.

"Gentlemen! It has been far too long! I would offer you a drink but I'm afraid that my mother's manners did not pass to me."

The guard who's name Aedan had learned was Gideon snarled, showing off a mouthful of rotting teeth. "A Warden with a smart mouth. Let's see how long your humor lasts when you see what the boss has in store for you."

A fresh wave of fear washed over Aedan, but his smile remained intact. "Oh good, I do hope he has been more creative. Our previous encounters have started to become dull."

"We will see how long your good humor lasts."

The guards grabbed Aedan under the arms and he could not contain the grunt of pain as the sudden movement sent a fresh wave of burning pain down his back.

Hours later when he was thrown back into his cell, all traces of a smile had vanished. He hit the wall and grunted as he crumpled onto the floor in a heap. His head was swimming and he was on the verge of losing consciousness. It took every ounce of remaining strength he had to turn over onto his back.

He was unable to look around as the slits in his new metal prison only made it possible to look straight ahead. Above him he could just see the carving on the wall. He rose a shaking hand and ran it over the letters leaving a large blood smear across the words.

He turned his head toward the corner of the cell where the familiar puddle was, and focused on the one thing that kept him from giving into the despair that was threatening to overtake him.

 _One..._


	3. Chapter 3

Aedan Cousland was not a weak man. He was strong in both body and mind, and when it came to pain he could shrug off the sting of a dagger as easily as a hit to the jaw. He was able to run uphill in full armor to meet an opponent in battle without losing his breath.

But that was Aedan Cousland before Fort Drakon. The Aedan Cousland who was currently chained to the chair in the middle of a dimly lit room deeper in the keep was having a difficult time holding onto to his sense of honor after yet another encounter with Holden and his sadism. Aedan had thus far managed to maintain his composure, however his newest torment threatened to take away what little control he had left.

Holden was known to be very creative when it came to his methods. He delighted in creating new ways to inflict pain on his prisoners, and this time he felt he had truly outdone himself.

He had created a mask himself, but this was far from the elaborate masks that you saw at an orlesian ball. This mask was made entirely out of iron and was designed to fit over the victims entire head. Small straps were placed inside the lower portion which wrapped around the victims neck, making it impossible for the wearer to turn their head more than a few inches causing unbearable stiffness. Two eye holes had been crudely cut into the metal allowing only a small amount of the outside world to be viewed from inside the portable prison. And Holden's proudest addition was something he had made himself. Inside right where the victims mouth would be was a small piece extending just far enough to be inserted into the mouth of the unfortunate soul. A half dozen small spikes had been whittled down until they were the perfect size to be forced into the mouth, holding the tongue down. If the victim tried to speak, or screaming too loudly, their mouth would be shredded from the inside.

Aedan was not a stupid man, and for all of his strength and perceived arrogance, he knew when to be afraid. And right now he was very much afraid.

Holden paced in and out of his line of sight, his hand was clutching a torch, the light illuminating his black eyes that seemed to lack all emotion. An evil smirk was plastered on his face, a smirk that made Aedan's blood run cold. Holden stretched his arm out holding the torch against the iron mask. The iron began to heat up, quickly causing his skin to become uncomfortably hot. Holden pulled the torch away but Aedan could still feel the heat emenating from the mask.

"I must admit Warden, your will has held out longer than I expected. Though rather you are brave or just plain foolish remains to be seen."

Holden lifted his arm out of Aedan's eyesight. He tried to lift his head out of instinct but the straps prevented him from moving. He felt his sense of foreboding grow, it was bad enough when he saw what Holden was about to do to him, but this not knowing escalated his fear to the point of near panic.

Holden finished preparing his newest game and knelt down in front of Aedan. "Resistance will get you nowhere, except an early grave. How much longer until that realization penetrates that thick skull of yours?" Holden rapped his knuckles on the mask to bring his point home. Aedan closed his eyes as the sound echoed loudly inside his ears.

Holden arose and began circling around Aedan, coming in and out of his line of sight every few seconds. He was not speaking for the moment, he seemed to be preoccupied with whatever horrors were currently hovering above them.

"Your resolve is impressive Warden," Holden spoke off to the right. "But even the strongest of heroes has trouble watching those they care about suffer."

Aedan felt his heart drop.

"It must get lonely in your cell. And I am not without compassion. I hate to stand in the way of true love. I have arranged to have your lovely red haired temptress to join us here. Although you may have to share her with the men. You see, some of them haven't seen a woman in months, and desire a woman's touch. We'll be sure to return whatever is left of her."

Aedan felt something inside of him explode, he struggled against his restraints in a desperate attempt to reach Holden. He could withstand whatever torture Holden had to offer, he could fight through the pain, endure the punishments, because it meant Leliana did not have to, it meant she was safe. This man had threatened the very thing he had been trying to protect. This monster had threatened to take away the only woman he had ever loved, the one shining light in his world that had been nothing but darkness. This man had dared to bring Leliana into it, and Aedan found he no longer cared if he lived or died as long he ripped this bastard's head off.

He struggled against the chains that bound him, he tried to yell but he felt the spikes digging into his tongue. He felt his tongue begin to shred, his mouth filled with blood which spilled out over his chapped lips and down his chin. Holden's malicious laughter echoed off the walls, filling Aedan's ears and fueling his rage.

A searing hot pain on his shoulder brought a momentary pause in his rage. He grunted in pain, and no sooner had the sensation passed then another agonizing burn came from his back. It took him a moment to understand that the pain was caused by something dropping on him, no doubt from whatever device was rigged above him.

The drops became more frequent and soon his entire neck, back, and shoulders felt as if they were on fire. He could not stop the cry of pain that escaped his troat, ignoring the pain from the fresh wounds on his tongue. His whole body was in agony, and soon his effort to break free of his chains was abandoned as the strength left his body.

Holden gave a triumphant smile, as Aedan's resolve lessened and eventually faded.

"There, that's far more like it." He said coldly. "I told you Warden, I will break you. I will leave you here until this lesson has had time to fully set it. But do not worry, you will have company soon enough."

Holden left slamming the door loudly behind him. Aedan was remotely aware of the sound of the lock clicking followed immediately by the sound of searing flesh as another white hot drop hit his flesh. The last thing that ran through Aedan's mind before his world went black was a silent prayer that Holden would not follow through on his promise.

 _Maker, if there is a Maker, keep her safe. Please, protect her..._


	4. Chapter 4

The atmosphere inside of Arl Eamon's palace was tense at best, hostile at worst. The entire party remained hopelessly deadlocked on how to proceed recovering Aedan from the clutches of his captors at Fort Drakon. Queen Anora had flatly refused to use her power to free Aedan from the prison, stating her father would in turn have _her_ imprisoned for treason. Sten, Morrigan and Wynne were opting for a "wait and see" approach, while the rest of the party were ready to storm the fortress right then and there. None of them however had offered any ideas on how to actually go about pulling of such a feat, so the idea had thus far remained nothing more than that- an idea.

The lack of action had sent Alistair into a rage that none of them had ever seen from him before. Their normally composed and gentle-natured companion had seemingly snapped when Arl Eamon had cautioned patience. He and the Arl had engaged in a verbal altercation that had prompted the gathered party members to place themselves between the two men. Alistair had stormed from the Arl's study in a blind rage, putting a sizable dent in the massive wooden door on his way out.

Nobody had the heart or the gall to verbalize that his anger might stem from his own guilt and frustration. Aedan had insisted that Alistair remain behind when they had infiltrated Arl Howe's estate to rescue the queen. Alistair had protested of course, but had finally given in when Aedan stopped acting as their leader and approached Alistair as a friend. It soon became obvious that Aedan knew this would not be a simple rescue mission, and should things go wrong Alistair would need to remain to ensure the Grey Wardens would not be wiped out for good. Aedan had left Alistair behind to protect him, to keep him from facing the same horrors that he was no doubt facing.

Alistair was ready to storm to keep to recuse his friend and Leliana found herself in one of the rare situations where she found herself agreeing with the young Warden. Leliana had also been left behind, and like Alistair she had not let the issue go peacefully.

"Leliana-"

"No!" Aedan was slightly taken aback by the ferocity coming from his lover. He had never seen her angry before, and he made a mental note that once was more than enough for him.

"Aedan Maxwell Cousland, I have stood by you through every decision you've made, no matter how much I may have disagreed with them. And believe me when I say that stunt in Haven with the cultists had me questioning your sanity. But leaving me behind to run off and play the hero-"

"It has nothing to do with that!"

Aedan ran his fingers through his short straw colored hair in the same way he always did when he was flustered. He placed his hands on her shoulders. She stiffened slightly but made no effort to pull away.

"Leliana," he began, gently brushing away a strand of hair from her eyes. "Howe has killed everyone I have ever loved. When Duncan dragged me from Highever I swore I would never get close to anyone again, because if I didn't have anyone to love then there would be nobody to hurt."

He placed his hand gently on her face. "But then you happened." She felt her anger ebbing away in spite of herself. "You came out of nowhere, and somewhere between my lust for vengeance, and fighting a war I did not start, I fell in love with you. You took my pain, all of my anger, and you turned it into something I never thought I could feel. You are my light in a dark world. I can't let him get near you, I can't lose you too. It would break me worse than any torture. Please, I promise that you can yell at me when I return."

She sighed and leaned into his touch, feeling her resolve weaken. At the moment she was not sure if she was angrier at Aedan for suggesting the ludicrous idea, or at herself for allowing him to go through with it.

One week later however, the answer to that question was abundantly clear. She was furious with herself for allowing him to go without her. She had been trained to be just as deadly with her words as with her bow, how could she allow him to disarm her so easily?

The sun was beginning to set on the sixth day, but to Leliana it all seemed to blend into one excruciatingly long day. Every second that Aedan was imprisoned seemed like an eternity, and she was in agony. She was angry at him for leaving her behind, she was angry at herself for allowing him to leave, she was angry at the Queen and Arl Eamon for their lack of action. She paced in her quarters in the darkening shadows, biting what was left of her fingernails. She had already barked at the servants who had come to light the fire, allowing herself only a second to feel guilty before returning to her brooding.

She had not eaten and barley slept since the rest of the party had returned without Aedan. Oghren, Morrigan and Zevran had returned to the palace covered in blood, each wearing the same defeated look. Alistair and Leliana had met them at the front gates and Leliana felt the color drain from her face.

"Aedan?" Alistair said in a voice higher than usual.

Oghren shook his head. "The boy was captured."

Leliana's knees buckled, she felt herself falling forward but was caught by Alistair before she could fully collapse. She clung to him tightly, desperate for something solid to hold onto.

"He was not 'captured',the fool turned himself in." Morrigan said in her usual harsh tone. "He refused to engage a group half-trained half-wits and willingly let himself be led away."

"We were outnumbered five to one." Replied Zevran. "It was not a fight we could win and he knew that."

"So he chooses instead to be led away like a cow to slaughter? Excellent plan."

Leliana did not hear the rest of the conversation. A ringing arose in her ears, and she realized that she had forgotten to breathe. She buried her face in Alistair's chest, vaguely aware of his arms wrapping around her and leading her back into the palace.

There had been an immediate debate over the next course of action and the last few days had been nothing more than an exercise in futility. Aedan had been held prisoner in one of the most infamous prisons in Ferelden, one that was notorious for its brutality and lethality. He was undoubtedly being subjected to unimaginable torture, while the rest of them talked in circles about what to do. And if Aedan had already served his purpose...

No. She would not even entertain the idea. He was alive, he had to be. And that was the assumption she was going to operate on. It was the only one she _could_ operate on. He was alive, and he was in unimaginable pain. And he faced it willingly. Leliana knew after hearing what had happened at the estate that Aedan had surrendered to keep his companions from facing the horrors that he was currently facing. Had they been as outnumbered as Zevan had said, then there was no doubt the lot of them would have been hauled off to Fort Drakon and subjected to the same torture that Aedan was now facing. He had gone willingly to protect them.

To protect _her._

She had flashbacks to her own imprisonment and subsequent torture. Her heart sank as she thought of the man she loved being so far from her. She loved him more than she had ever thought it was possible to love someone, and he made her feel more loved than she had ever felt before. He had sworn that he would protect her from anything, and he had held true to his word.

A small knock on her door interrupted her thoughts and she stared at the door in annoyance, assuming it to be one of the servants returning to offer her one more asinine service or another. She flung the door open with more ferocity than she intended and stared angrily at the offending visitor.

"I have told you already that I-" she stopped short upon seeing Alistair staring back at her.

"I'm glad to see I'm not the only one who has taken to shouting at the help. I frightened the cook so much she nearly burnt the water."

Leliana was in no mood for Alistair's lackluster humor, however she stepped aside and allowed him to enter.

"How are you? Stupid question, I know, but well...how are you?"

"You don't really expect me to answer that do you?"

"No. But I needed to check on you because, well...that's what you do in situations like this, right?"

Leliana sighed. "What is it you want Alistair?"

"I can't stay here anymore." Alistair responded seriously. "It's been nearly a week and we have done nothing more than frighten a bunch of servants. The Queen refuses to take any action and hides behind her fear of Loghain. Arl Eamon is more concerned about the landsmeet being postponed, and the cooking staff ran out of mince meat pies."

Leliana stared at him.

"Okay, that last bit was a joke. It's true, but irrelevant to our predicament. I can't sit here any longer while Aedan is trapped inside of that prison. I need to do...something. Anything. But I can't do it alone. I need your help."

Leliana's heart began to race. "You want us to infiltrate Fort Drakon? Just the two of us?"

"Well...yes."

"Thank the Maker."

"I know, I know but-wait, what?"

"Well one person attempting an escape is just foolish. Two people however is...still foolish. But perhaps less suicidal."

"How about three?" Oghren entered the room heaving his massive battle axe over his shoulder. "At least I think it's three, could very well be six. Which is the numbers of ales it took to convince myself this was a great idea."

The last part needed no clarification as Oghren's breath was strong enough to leave Leliana with the urge to dance provocatively on the nearest table.

"Well, the three of us against a few hundred guards. I like those odds!" Alistair exclaimed. "But how do we go about _doing_ that? Infiltrating the prison I mean. Not the three hundred guards, unless of course they are female guards then, well, I won't complain."

"Do you even _like_ girls?" Oghren asked before belting loudly.

"Of course I like girls! Well most girls. Morrigan scares the mortal piss out of me."

"As charming as this conversation is," Leliana interjected. "Could we kindly get back to the matter at hand?"

"Er, right. So the plan. We should make one."

A small smile spread across Leliana's face for the first time in days. "Oh, don't worry. I think I may have a thought or two on that." She stared pointedly at Oghren.

"Bronto piss. I'm gonna need another ale."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: This would be the chapter that tipped this story into the Mature category. Sorry if that turns you off of this story, and if it does thank you for reading up to this point! Reviews welcome and encouraged.**

* * *

When Aedan was in his seventeenth year, he had entered a tourney held in King Cailan's honor. He had proven to be an adept swordsman, even when on horseback. His prized horse Scarto was the envy of most of his peers, he was a pure bred stallion midnight black in color except for a small white strip down his snout. In the three years since Aedan had received him, they had developed a strong bond. Scarto seemed to sense Aedan's intentions and the two of them moved so gracefully it appeared as if they were gliding across the field. Their understanding of one another allowed them to remain undefeated in the jousting event.

Having never been thrown from his horse, Aedan had earned both respect and animosity amongst his peers. He had shown respect to his opponents, always helping them on to their feet and congratulating them on fighting well. He had sent his opponents gifts of well wishes and good fortune before each event, and he had earned a reputation as one of the most generous and chivalrous nobles in Ferelden. For some people however, it did little to lessen the sting of defeat, especially the younger son of a lord desperate to earn his father's approval. For some the sting festered until it had progressed to ill disguised resentment.

In his last tourney, Aedan had received word from members of his house that they had heard whispers of conspiracy and sabotage among his opponents. Aedan was encouraged to withdraw from the tourney, but his stubbornness and pride would not allow him to back down.

He had been in his tent strapping on the final piece of his armor when a great disturbance coming from outside peaked his curiosity. He stepped outside to witness his prized horse in a frenzy. Scarto was whinnying in fear, standing up on his hind legs and stomping the ground. Two of Aedan's stablemen were trying to gain control of the situation but they could not get close enough to the frantic horse without risking injury.

Aedan hurried over to the fenced area to try and gain control of the situation. He hopped over the small fence and approached Scarto from behind. That one small lapse in judgment would prove to be nearly fatal. Scarto gave a powerful kick with his hind legs, landing squarely on Aedan's chest. He was thrown backwards into the air crashing into the fence on the other side of the corral. He lay motionless on the ground for several moments, trying to determine if he was still alive. He tried to push himself up but a pain unlike anything he had ever known shot through his entire body.

The front of his armor had been dented and caved in. He was trying to gasp for air, but every breath he took felt as if he was inhaling fire. He remembered someone shouting for a healer, Scarto's terrified shrieks echoing in his ears, terrified shouts and screams from the nobles and servants. However he could see none of this, all he could do was lie helplessly on his back staring up at the clear sky trying to breathe in a way that would not cause him agony.

He did not remember losing consciousness. His next coherent thought was waking in a medical tent surrounded by healers. His armor had been removed, his chest covered in bandages and the whole of his left arm. Four of his ribs had been broken, two of them nearly shattered. His arms had been broken in three places and his left lung had nearly collapsed. It has taken months for him to regain full mobility, and even longer to regain his full skill with a sword. The first weeks of his recovery were spent laying in a bed, unable to sleep due to the pain constantly shooting through his body. The healers magic only went so far and it was not long before he was sweating and writing in agony. He had never before experienced pain of such magnitude, it was worse than anything he had ever experienced.

Until now.

At least when he had been recovering from his previous injuries, he had an abundance of beautiful serving girls to give him sponge baths and other pleasures to ease the suffering. His current situation left him with nothing other than his memories as an escape.

His body was broken, every inch of him was covered in bruises, marks, burns and blood both old and new. He was lying in a small pool of his own blood, every move he made reopened old wounds adding to ever increasing puddle.

The mask was the worst part. His face was blistered and burned underneath the iron prison, Holden had held the torch against the iron for so long that the heat had caused the his skin to blister and burn. His vision was limited to just the slits that provided little view of the outside world. His lips were chapped and bleeding from lack of water and the device inserted into his mouth made it impossible to scream or talk without causing further damage and potentially choking on his own blood.

His skin was still on fire from his most recent encounter with Holden. The burning droplets on his skin had been caused by metal that had been melted in a cauldron hanging from the ceiling. Small holes had been cut into the bottom of the massive cauldron allowing the metal to drop onto the victim who was placed strategically below the device right in the path of the tortuous rainstorm.

He had not slept throughout his entire ordeal, only occasionally nodding off for brief periods of time before the pain would jerk him awake again.

His mind was occupied by Leliana. Holden had threatened that she was in danger, that she would be brought to this place and endure the same torment that he was now enduring. It could have been a trick, a way to fully break what little ounce of will he had left. And if that were the case, it had almost certainly worked. He had almost cracked and told the bastard what he wanted to hear just to keep her away from this place. But the rational part of him told him to keep it together. It wasn't true, she was safe. And that was the thought he had held on to, it was the only way he would be able to survive now.

Through the small slits in the iron mask he could just make out the carving in the wall.

 _If there be a Maker..._

He focused on the words saying them over and over again like a chant. He closed his eyes and escaped into his memories, allowing himself to be taken away from the pain. Even if he knew it was only temporary.

* * *

Leliana's heart was racing. A combination of excitement, pleasure, happiness, and even a little fear swam in her chest. She had never felt this way before, not even when she had thought herself to be in love with Marjolaine. Of course in hindsight, what she had with Marjolaine was nothing compared to what she had with Aedan.

Aedan lay on top of her with his head resting on her chest, breathing heavily as she ran her fingers through his hair.

The fire in the fireplace had burned low, hot red orange embers glowed against the black of the burned wood. Leliana's skin was on fire, but the heat had nothing to do with the heat emanating from the fireplace, but rather the passion the two of them had just shared.

It had been their first night being intimate, and Leliana was not ashamed to admit she was nervous. She had not been with anyone in such a way since her imprisonment and torture. Her body had suffered irreparable damage from the days of abuse and physical torment she had endured at the hands of her captors. She had been terrified to let Aedan see her, worried that he might see her differently, or worse-treat her like some kind of wounded animal.

She came to his quarters in Redcliffe castle late that evening. They had just pulled Arl Eamon from his poisoned slumber and were preparing to march to Denerim the following morning. Aedan had been very distant after the Arl had suggested the Landsmeet and retired to his room shortly after, skipping the feast that the Arl had prepared. It was clear that he needed time alone to process whatever it was that he was dealing with. She had left him to his thoughts, but her concern for him would not allow her to rest until she had checked in on him.

She paused outside of his door, second guessing herself for only a moment before she gently knocked twice. The door opened almost immediately and it was obvious that he had not been resting. He offered her a tired smile upon seeing her. She did not even have to ask for permission to enter, he took her by the hand and gently pulled her in. He closed the door behind them and wrapped his arms around her waist, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"I'm sorry to disturb you." She said resting her head against his chest.

"You are far from disturbing me, my love."

She marveled at how her heart still fluttered every time he said those words. She looked into his eyes that held a tenderness reserved only for her. "Are you alright? You seemed...distracted earlier."

Aedan stared into the fire for a moment. "I understand Eamon's reasons for calling a Landsmeet. In fact, it's brilliant. But it means facing my past. All of the nobles will remember me not as Aedan Cousland, just "Bryce Cousland's youngest son." Fergus was the oldest, my father was grooming him to take his place at Highever and I was meant to take my place at the head of the army. I was never trained in politics, and these nobles will see that. What if I fail to unite them? I will be letting my father down for a second time."

Leliana looked at him and found herself surprised at just how much he had changed since they had first met. When she had first encountered him in Lothering, he had been a broken shell of a man, refusing to get close to anyone. He kept himself closed off and kept everyone at arms length. Now he was able to open up to her freely, allowing her to penetrate his defenses. She put her hand to his face and turned his head to look at her. "I never had the chance to meet your family, but I have a hard time imagining that they would see you as a failure. You have succeeded where others have failed, you have caused races to set aside ancient feuds in the name of peace. You have survived despite all of the odds, and you made me believe that I am worthy of being loved. You are a great man Aedan, and I am confident when I say that your parents would be proud to call you their son. Just as I am proud to call you the man I love."

He gave her a look she could not read, but her unspoken question was answered when he pulled her into a kiss that took her breath away. Her lips parted allowing his tongue entrance, a soft moan escaping her as his tongue danced over hers. Her head was swimming and she was in danger of losing herself in the passion. A thought occurred to her, causing fear to replace the desire she was feeling. With great difficulty she pulled away from the kiss. She placed a hand on his chest and averted her gaze to avoid the question in his eyes.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his voice thick with concern and longing.

It was Leliana's turn to stare into the fire. She had been both longing for and dreading this moment-the moment when she could be with Aedan completely. But fear was preventing her from proceeding. "Aedan, I-" she began, trying to find the right words. "I am...damaged."

Aedan stared at her in confusion. "What do you mean?"

She turned away from him, standing in front of the fire and wrapping her arms around herself almost protectively. "You know that I was captured in Orlais. I told you that I was imprisoned, and tortured. But I never told you the severity of it. Marjolaine made sure that I would never be the same as I was before." She began lifting her nightdress over her head as she spoke. "They told me that I was too pretty to be a traitor, that they would need to make sure the outside was as wretched as the inside." She slipped the material over her head letting it fall to the floor in a heap. She stood there naked exposing her bare skin, and the scars that marked it. The various criss-cross markings covering almost every inch of skin. Some were light and nearly faded, others were pink or dark purple. There was no way to tell where one began and another ended as they seemed to blend into one another.

She closed her eyes, instantly regretting leaving herself so vulnerable. She feared what was about to come-the rejection, the revulsion, the disgust. How long did she think she could keep up this illusion of happiness? No man would want something so damaged, so broken-not even a man such as Aedan.

She began to breathe heavily as the seconds passed with no response coming from Aedan. She was about to turn and run when she felt his strong arms wrap around her waist. He placed gentle kisses on her shoulder, up her neck pressing his lips close to her ear. "My darling, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever met. Both inside," he ran his fingers along the length of one the more grisly marks. "And out."

A sense of overwhelming relief washed over her, and she reprimanded herself for even thinking such things about him. He was not like any man she had ever known. She sighed contentedly as his lips placed gentle kisses on her neck, his fingers tracing over her flat stomach. His touch remained almost painfully gentle as his fingers trailed up her stomach, higher and higher. He stopped right below the mounds of her breasts, seeming to hesitate.

"We don't-I mean we don't have to," he began. His question was answered as Leliana grabbed his hands and moved them up to her breasts, sighing as his calloused skin ran along her skin. His thumbs ran in slow circles over her erect nipples, sending waves of pleasure through her. She leaned her head back against his shoulder, allowing the pleasure to swim through her mind.

Before she realized what was happening, his fingers were trailing back down her stomach. They inched lower and lower at a maddeningly slow pace until they finally met her wet folds. A small yelp of pleasure escaped her as he began rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves while his other hand remained preoccupied with her other breast. She began breathing heavily as her pleasure increased until she was at the peak and dangerously close to falling over the edge.

Unwilling to let the moment pass so quickly, she summoned what willpower she had left and pulled herself away from his touch. She turned around and planted her mouth on his, not waiting for an invitation as her tongue invaded his mouth and danced over his. He grunted his approval as she began pushing him backwards across the room until they were in front of the large canopy bed. She pushed him backwards onto the soft silk sheets, feeling encouraged as he stared at her with a mixture of love and lust.

She climbed on top of him slowly, her eyes never leaving his. She expertly began to loosen the buttons of his shirt as she trailed kisses down his neck. She pulled the material away to reveal his muscular torso. Every inch of his stomach was rippled with muscle, causing her to smile in approval. She ran her tongue down his stomach to the waistline of his breeches, offering a mischievous smile as she traced the line with her finger tips. She pulled the material down, causing him to groan as he sprang free. His size was a surprise, but a welcome one, and she felt herself nearly drowning in desire for him.

She took his manhood into her hand and rose to her knees. She threw one leg over his waist until she was nearly straddling him, hovering over him. She slowly lowered herself to him, using her hand to guide him into her causing them both to gasp as he filled her.

He slowly raised himself up, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his lips to her forehead. She looked into his eyes, feeling overwhelmed at the amount of love looking back at her. She adjusted to his size and slowly began rocking into him as he lowered his mouth to her breast. She gripped the back of his neck as he took her into his mouth, causing her to gasp slightly. Maker, he was good at this.

She had never been with anyone in this way before. She had been with her share of sexual partners, but nobody had ever made love to her before. It was all about their pleasure, and the need to conquer a beautiful woman, to prove his manhood by bedding every woman that crossed his path. Aedan was the first real man she had ever been with, he was the embodiment of strength, compassion, and kindness. And the way he loved her made her feel more pleasure than she had ever felt before.

Before she knew what was happening, he flipped her onto her back causing her to squeal in delight. He covered her hands in his, holding them over her head as he began thrusting into her at an almost maddeningly slow pace as if he was afraid he would hurt her.

This was what she loved most about Aedan, how gentle and kind he was, even when most men would let their primal and animal instincts take over. She loved how gentle he was, but right now she needed something else from him.

"Aedan," she croaked out, posing a question within the single word. He seemed understand her meaning, and quickened his pace. She covered his mouth in hers to keep from shouting her pleasure. Her pleasure was mounting and this time she made no effort to stop herself from spilling over the edge.

Her head swam as she felt her pleasure pull her over the edge, followed shortly by her lover's own shuddering release, grunting loudly as he emptied himself into her.

He slowly eased himself out of her, resting his head on her chest breathing heavily.

They had stayed like this for several moments, both lost in their own thoughts. She ran her fingers through his damp hair, feeling a sense of peace she did know she could ever feel.

He raised his head to look at her, offering one of his smiles he reserved especially for her. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face and twirled the strand between his fingers absently.

"What are you thinking about darling?"

He cocked his head in the same adorable way he always did when he was thinking about something serious. "You." He replied simply.

"Oh? And what about me?"

"No matter what happens-with the Landsmeet, the Blight, anything. I can face whatever comes, as long as you're beside me."

She took his hand and gently kissed his fingers. "I will always be beside you, my love."

Leliana finished fastening the leather straps on her armor, thinking about the night they had shared together. She felt her chest tighten with guilt as she thought about the promise she had made to him, and unintentionally broken.

 _I will always be beside you..._

She sheathed the dagger at her hips, trying to shake off the guilt that was threatening to overwhelm her. She had broken a promise the one person she loved more than life itself. She would not allow Aedan to think he had been abandoned, she would _not_ break her promise. She would be beside him, if not in this life then in the next.


	6. Chapter 6

_Have you ever wondered what marks our time here? If one life can really make an impact on the world? Of if the choices that we make matter?_

 _I believe that they do._

 _And I believe that one man can change many lives..._

 _For better...or for worse._

* * *

Holden was not known to be a patient man, and when he became impatient he became angry. When he became angry, he became violent. When he was violent, not even the Maker himself could protect the poor bastard Holden had chosen to project his anger on. In this case the bastard happened to be the very reason for his anger in the first place, making his punishment even more severe.

Aedan was once again on his knees in the middle of the hard cobblestone floor. His hands were shackled above his head, the metal digging into his wrists and drawing blood. His hands were balled into fists, clenched so tight that the knuckles had gone white. His cries of pain echoed throughout the keep sending shivers down the spines of even the most hardened guard. The cries were not simply from a man who was in physical discomfort; it was the cry of a man whose very soul was in agony.

There was scarcely any inch of flesh on Aedan's body that Holden had not laid claim to. It was therefore astounding to him that Holden continuously found new ways of inflicting pain. And Aedan was growing weary of surprises.

Holden knelt in front of the fireplace, staring into the flames as he slowly rotated the metal rod in the center of the flames.

Aedan sensed Holden as he stood next to him. The iron mask he had been adorned with weight him down and his head drooped forward allowing him to only see the red stained cobblestone. Though rather the red was a reflection of the firelight or something more sinister, Aedan chose not to think about.

He was at his breaking point. The deprivation of sleep and food, combined with the relentless torture had finally taken a toll on Aedan. He no longer cared about the damage being done to his mouth as he screamed in agony as each new torture occurred.

The metal rod was placed on his skin again, eliciting another scream from him. His body began to violently shake as the new torture was inflicted on him.

 _Maker, if there be a Maker...Please, please let me die._

* * *

The rain was coming down hard, flooding the cobblestone street of Denerim. Lightening flashed across the sky followed immediately by the booming of thunder.

Leliana peered up at the fortress from the hood of her cloak. The structure leered back at her from the darkness, the rain making the building all the more intimidating.

She lifted the hood, allowing the downpour to drench her skin. The icy water assaulted her skin, causing a strangely pleasant sensation to wash over her. She closed her eyes as she reveled in the feel of it, the sensation making her feel alive. Her hands reached up and gripped the bronze medallion around her neck containing the holy symbol of Andraste. It had been one of the first gifts that Aedan had presented her with, at a pivotal moment in her life when she found herself doubting her faith. Her faith; the one consistent thing that she was able to hold on to since she was forced to flee from Orlais.

Leliana sat at the edge of a small river near the campsite. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped around tightly around herself. She stared unseeing out into the blackness of the lake. She had been uncharacteristically quiet since they had departed Denerim, something that had not gone unnoticed by the rest of the party.

She had quietly excused herself several hours earlier, seeking a quiet spot to collect her thoughts. She replayed the events in her mind over and over, but no matter how many times she relived the scenario, it still led her to the same impasse.

They had entered Marjolaine's establishment and had been immediately ambushed by Qunari mercenaries. They were easily dispatched by their small group, and it was obvious that Marjolaine had not hired them for their skill. Leliana stood with her hand on the doorknob, feeling her sense of uneasiness increasing. She suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to turn around and run back to Lothering. She would rather face down an army of darkspawn by herself than see her old mentor again. Alistair placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She glanced over her shoulder at her companions who nodded at her, giving their silent approval that they had her back. She took a deep breath and pushed through the door.

They stepped into a slightly larger room, the heat of the fire assaulting them as soon as they stepped in. Several guards stood off to the side, they were well armed but their weapons remained sheathed for the moment. That was a testament to the power that Marjolaine held; the hounds would not bark until their master told them to.

Marjolaine herself stood in front of the fireplace, her back turned towards them. The room was stifling, causing beads of sweat to instantly pop up on Leliana's skin. Marjolaine seemed oblivious to the heat despite the floor length, long sleeved dress that she wore. She spun around, wearing the same smile that Leliana had learned to both love and fear.

"Leliana! It's so lovely to see you again."

The woman's face had aged slightly, but still remained strikingly beautiful. Leliana had always slightly envied the older woman's looks, and even now felt herself comparing the two of them.

"I see the years have not been kind to either of us. I must admit I did not expect to ever see you again after your arrest, but then I didn't expect you to live either."

"I would apologize for disappointing you, but that would make me an even bigger liar than you."

A cold laugh escaped the woman's lips. "Ah, it is good to see that you have not lost your clever tongue."

"If you had things your way I would not have a tongue at all."

"Are you referring to that unpleasant business back in Orlais? You must understand it was nothing personal, it was business."

"Business?" Leliana shouted. "Is that what you call it? You tried to have me killed."

"Only because I knew it was only a matter of time before you did the same to me."

The two former lovers stood facing each other locked in a glare that would sour milk.

"I came here thinking I would get answers," Leliana said slowly backing away. "But it seems I have only wasted my time."

She turned to leave, but the sound of blades being drawn stopped her in her tracks.

"You think you can just walk away from me? You cannot turn your back on me so easily pretty thing."

Leliana felt herself being grabbed roughly before being spun around. Aedan's chest was pressed tightly against her back, his arm still holding her firmly yet gently. He grunted loudly as his body jerked forward slightly. Her eyes caught a glimpse of Alistair unsheathing his blade as Aedan released his grip and stepped away from her. Her eyes widened as they settled on the arrow protruding from his left shoulder. He reached behind him and pulled out the invading object with a grunt of pain. He tossed it aside angrily and unsheathed his sword. The dagger remained at his side, his left arm unable to swing the blade with his injured arm.

The wound did not appear to be too damaging so Leliana instead chose to focus her attention on the small battle that had broken out. It was difficult for the group to maneuver in such a tightly enclosed space, mainly to do the constant fear that they would be decapitated by Oghren's massive battleaxe. Alistair's sword had been re-sheathed and hung at his side, and he had instead opted to use his shield offensively as well as defensively, smashing into the unarmored head of a poorly trained mercenary.

Leliana was in no position to use her arrows so she drew her daggers and turned her attention to a guard who was foolish enough to leave his back opened. She placed a well aimed kick to the back of his knee, catching him as he fell backwards. She held his head against her and quickly drew his blade across his throat. Her eyes settled on Marjolaine who stood a distance off from the battle, watching the scene before her with a bored expression on her face.

She maneuvered her way through the chaos, easily avoiding the battle as she focused on the woman who had nearly destroyed her life. Marjolaine made no move to defend herself as Leliana pinned her against the wall. She held her in place with her left arm, the other bringing her dagger up to the older woman's throat.

Marjolaine's eyes held a mixture of satisfaction, amusement and a hint of something Leliana had never seen in her before: fear.

"Ah, and here we are at last." Marjolaine said, her voice as usual revealing no hint of emotion.

Leliana gave no reply, and she silently cursed herself. She had imagined this scenario a thousand times in her mind, going over what she would say or do. But now that she was presented with the opportunity she found herself at a complete loss. Her dagger remained clutched in her grip which thankfully for the moment remained steady. At least she would not give Marjolaine the satisfaction of of seeing her falter.

The sound of battle died out behind her, the last of Marjolaine's men falling to her companion's blades. Alistair posed a question to Aedan who grunted a response. His voice was wracked with pain, but she did not allow herself to feel the guilt that she would no doubt experience later at what he had done for her.

"You inspire handsome loyalty, pretty thing." Marjolaine said, eyeing her male companions.

"Shut up!" Leliana shouted, a surge of anger coursing through her. Though rather the anger came from hearing her old mentors pet name for her, or from the woman daring to address her companions in such a way, she couldn't be sure. "You framed me. You had me caught and tortured. I did everything for you, I _killed_ for you. I would have done anything for you, I would have protected you. Why betray me?"

To her surprise Marjolaine began to laugh. "Oh, my Leliana. We have built our lives on lies and deceit. It seems you have trained yourself so well that even you believe the lies you have spun."

Leliana glared at her in question. "I _made_ you Leliana. I know what you are capable of, because I _was_ you. I once thought my mentor was my lover and friend, until I discovered a plot that would send me to the darkest dungeon in Orlais, where all that awaited me was an early grave. So I struck first. I took her place and soon began taking on apprentices of my own, each one more skilled than the last. But for all their skill none of them had the skill or the brains to ever act against me, I had nothing to fear from them. But then you came along-my brightest and most talented pupil. You possessed more talent for the game than I did, and I knew that the day would come when you saw that for yourself and slit my throat in my sleep. I could not allow that to happen, so I acted first. I decided to get rid of you before you became a threat."

Marjolaine gave another laugh that held no trace of humor. "But you somehow escaped that prison that was meant to be your tomb. You once again evaded a trap that would have defeated a lesser being. I knew it would only be a matter of time before you would exact revenge, so I had you watched. I must admit you almost had me fooled with the innocent Chantry Sister act. Clever Leliana, very clever. But I was foolish, I let my guard down. When you left so suddenly I knew the time had finally come. And here we are."

Leliana was silent, allowing the woman's words to sink in. She was only vaguely aware of her friends filing into the room behind her, their footsteps heavy on the solid wooden floors.

"You think I left because of _you?_ You are insane!"

"Yet here you stand with a knife at my throat." A smirk came across Marjolaine's face. "You may tell yourself whatever tales to help you sleep at night pretty thing, but you cannot run from who you are."

Leliana could no longer hold her grip steady as anger was now coursing through her body, causing her to shake uncontrollably. A silent internal war between good and evil was raging within her. One part of her was begging her to walk away, to not become the monster she had spent so many years running from. The other part of her, the part that was quickly gaining the upper hand, was telling her to give into her anger. This woman before her had tried to have her killed, after she had made sure she had been brutally tortured. She deserved to die for what she had done, and Leliana deserved to live out the rest of her days in peace. As long as Marjolaine lived, there would be no peace for Leliana.

The dagger moved closer to Marjolaine's throat almost of its own accord. She felt a strong hand gently grip the arm that was only inches away from ending the woman's life. Her body stiffened slightly but her eyes never left Marjolaine's face.

"Leliana," Aedan said softly next to her. "I am not about to tell you to forget the past. If this were Howe the Maker Himself could not talk me down. But you are not me, and you are definitely not her. If you kill her then she wins, don't let her take any more from you than she already has. Don't let her take away who you are."

"And who am I?" Leliana snapped over her shoulder. Aedan's grip loosened slightly but he did not back away. "I am whoever I need to be in a situation. A minstrel, a noble. A Chantry Sister. But who am _I_?"

A heavy silence fell over the group as Leliana all but spat the last word. She was trained to be whoever she needed to be in a given moment. But when she went to bed each night, and there was no audience to put on a show for, who was she?

"You are our friend." Came Alistair's voice behind them. "I have known a lot of murderers in my life Leliana, but none of them went to bed each night praying for the souls of those they had killed."

"A real murderer would already be halfway through their second pint," Oghren chimed in. "They'd be bragging and talking the ear off any poor bastard who would listen. Trust me kid, you don't have it in you to be a murderer. But your blasted stories however could be considered a method of torture. Could drive a man to suicide."

"You are not her." Aedan's voice was quiet and reassuring in her ear. She was keenly aware of his hand still gripping her arm, causing feelings of a different kind to course through her. Feelings which she immediately shoved down. "Don't give her the satisfaction of letting her see you become her."

Several tense moments passed before Leliana lowered the dagger in her hand. The daggers in her eyes however remained. She released her grip on Marjolaine, slowly stepping away, her eyes never leaving the older woman's face.

"Get out."

Marjolaine narrowed her eyes but made no move to leave. She seemed to be torn between leaving with her life or continuing her effort to destroy Leliana once and for all.

"Do you really think that-"

"I said get out!"

The ferocity in her voice alarmed her comrades and seemed to give Marjolaine the motivation she needed to slowly back out of the room. She kept her back towards the wall as she inched her way out of the room, pausing at the door frame her dark eyes fixated on Leliana.

"You think you have won? You will never be rid of me pretty thing. This isn't over."

A primal scream escaped Leliana, a sound none of them had ever heard from the woman. She threw the dagger she still clutched in her hand with all of her strength towards Marjolaine. The dagger soared threw the air, sinking into the door frame inches from Marjolaine's head. A sinister grin spread across the woman's face as she eyed the blade that sill quivered within the wood.

"Just as I taught you."

She spun on her heel, stepping out into the midday sun. She muttered her displeasure about the stench of Ferelden before disappearing into the crowd.

"Huh, thought your aim was better than that." Oghren quipped.

"I didn't miss." Leliana replied coldly. She took several deep breaths trying to calm herself, but the bitter taste remained. She turned to her comrades, unsure of how to express what she was feeling.

"I need some time, I need to-" Her eyes widened as they settled on Aedan. His face was pale, devoid of all color and covered in sweat. Blood ran down his arm, dripping from his fingers onto the floor where a small pool had formed.

"You're injured." Leliana said stating the obvious.

"I told you that it's a bad idea to wear leather armor if you're within arm's reach of a sword." Alistair said examining his friend's shoulder.

"It wasn't a sword it was an arrow," Aedan said through gritted teeth. "Besides, how often do you complain that your armor is too hot when we're traveling."

"Looks deep, we need to find you a healer."

"Good thing it was you and not the cupcake here," Oghren chimed in. "An arrow that size would have taken her arm off and given your dog a new chew toy."

Aedan's eyes locked with hers, holding the gaze for several moments. Leliana's gaze held gratitude, an unspoken apology, and a silent plea for forgiveness. His held pain, friendship, and something else Leliana could not-or would not, pinpoint.

The snapping of a twig echoed in the area, pulling Leliana out of her reverie. Aedan stepped into the clearing followed closely by Mathias who barked happily as he bounded towards her. She smiled in spite of herself, reaching out to scratch his ears as he sat his massive frame next to her.

"Sorry about him," Aedan said as he approached. "You're the only one who will give him attention in a form other than a threat. Even Wynne threatens him with a bath."

Mathias huffed in response. A brief smile came to her face in spite of herself, a feeling that felt almost foreign. "I don't mind," she said truthfully.

"May I join you or should I leave you two alone to enjoy the moonlight?"

"I have spent enough time wallowing in self pity I think."

Aedan winced slightly as he lowered himself onto the bank next to her. His leather armor had been abandoned in favor of a simple cotton shirt, no doubt to alleviate the pressure on his shoulder. The top buttons had been left undone, revealing his muscular frame-something that did not go unnoticed by her. She shook her head slightly, silently reprimanding herself for thinking such thoughts.

"Are you alright?"

She pelt a pang of guilt at the question. The man had taken and arrow for her, had saved her from serious harm-yet he was the one asking about her well being.

"Why?' She asked quietly.

"Why am I asking if you are alright?"

"No-I mean, why did you do it? You took an arrow for me, risked your life for me. I should be begging for your forgiveness, but here you are asking if I am okay."

Aedan remained silent as he stared out into the lake, his signature brooding expression covering his face. At first Leliana had found his broodiness to be tiring, a defense mechanism used to keep others at arm's length. Yet somewhere in their travels together, Leliana could not pinpoint exactly when-but somewhere along the lines she had started to see past his broody demeanor and notice other things about him. Such as the way he would sit away from the other members of the party, yet cast glances that seemed almost sad towards the other companions who sat chatting around the campfire. Several times he looked as though he would join in with the light-hearted chit chat, but would quickly retreat back into his shell. Or the way he would soften ever so slightly when he saw a child in need, letting his guard down as he handed the child a silver. There was also the way that Aedan would subtly move a few paces ahead of his comrades whenever there was an immediate threat to one of them, putting himself between them and the danger. He placed the well being of others above himself, a trait that showed more than ever that day as he took an arrow that had been meant for her.

"The country is at war," Aedan replied finally. "We fight the darkspawn, the strong prey upon the weak and the nobles fight among each other. There has been enough death and destruction to last Ferelden a lifetime. I couldn't let the one remaining light in this world world go out."

Tears of regret stung her eyes at his words. "I don't deserve that."

"Why? Because Marjolaine said so? You are a better person than she could ever hope to be."

"Because she was right. I _did_ want to kill her, and even now I feel some regret at not ending her life. Maybe I was just fooling myself in Lothering, pretending to be someone who I'm not. Maybe I just needed to believe that I could forget my old life and start a new one. Maybe I just needed to believe that there was someone looking out for me, to feel like I wasn't alone."

"You're not alone." Aedan said softly.

"But I was. And I thought that I had escaped from it all, but then she appears and it was as if I was that person all over again. My time as a bard came rushing back, and even now I feel regret at not ending her life in order to protect mine. She was right about me, she always has been. You put yourself at risk for someone you want to see, not for the person I really am."

Aedan fumbled around in his front pocket, wincing slightly. A small object hung at the end of the chain which he held out to her, the moonlight glinting off the metal. The holy symbol of Andraste stared back at her, and she slowly reached out to take the object. She held the medallion in her hand, her finger tracing over the carving gingerly.

"I bought it in Lothering. I don't know why I felt like I needed it, I guess it didn't seem right to leave it to the darkspawn. I might not be a fan of the Maker lately but I guess some of my father's teachings must have stuck. I've carried it around ever since, but I think you should have it. I know you feel like you have lost your faith, so maybe if you carry it with you it will be harder to lose. Even harder than me losing faith in you."

Leliana looked at him speechless. She searched his eyes for any sort of doubt or uncertainty, but found only sincerity.

"That's why I did it. That's why I couldn't let that arrow hit you-it would damage the last bit of faith I had left in this world."

* * *

Thunder boomed in the sky bringing Leliana back to the situation at hand. The image of Aedan faded and was replaced by the towering structure of Fort Drakon.

"This had better work human," Oghren grunted next to her.

She tightened her grip on the medallion, feeling her resolve strengthen.

"Have a little faith Oghren."


	7. Chapter 7

_It seems to me that if you or I must choose between two courses of thought or action, we should remember our dying and try so to live that our death brings no pleasure on the world. -John Steinbeck_

* * *

Years of training as a bard, paired with her time living in Lothering as a chantry sister had taught Leliana the gift of patience. She was slow to anger and refrained from saying a harsh word even when provoked. That was however, long before she had been introduced to the perpetually intoxicated and foul mouthed Oghren who seemed skilled in knowing exactly which buttons to push to elicit a response from her. The dwarf seemed set on a suicide mission that involved the trio storming the keep and cutting through the innumerable guards and hoping for the best.

Alistair and Leliana had agreed that tact and secrecy held far better odds for escaping the fort alive and Oghren had been increasingly vocal with his displeasure. They had devised a hastily thought out plan that would allow them to infiltrate the fort without provoking half of the guards to charge at them as soon as they set foot in the doors. At least that was what they were hoping for. The plan could very easily fall apart and they would be forced to go along with Oghren's plan anyway.

They had waited in the shadows until the nightwatch made their rounds through the back alley where they were hidden. The pouring rain and booming thunder allowed them to remain unheard which was a relief as Oghren had no experience in remaining silent. Just after midnight the patrol made their way through the streets. Leliana gave a stiff nod to Alistair giving him the signal that it was time to move. Leliana moved first, her movements as silent as the shadows as she approached the unsuspecting guards. Alistair was less experienced in stealth, his heavy footsteps picked up easily by Leliana's trained ears. Thankfully the guards were not trained to pick up such sounds. Leliana snapped the neck of the nearest guard, killing him before he ever knew what was happening. The second guard soon lay beside him in the street, Alistair having ended his life as quickly as his partner.

"Maker's balls, this plan smells like the back end of a hurlock."

Leliana did not make an effort to stop the exasperated sigh that escaped her. Even Alistair was beginning to show visible signs of annoyance, clenching his jaw as they drug the bodies of the unconscious guards into the shadows of the back alley.

"We have been over this, Oghren." Leliana said curtly as they began to relieve the guards of their armor.

Oghren grunted a response that meant he was still unimpressed.

Alistair and Leliana remained silent as they strapped themselves into the armor, each lost in their own thoughts about what was about to happen. This was not a simple rescue mission, it bordered more on the lines of a suicide mission. They were all aware that there was a very strong possibility that none of them including Aedan, would leave the keep alive. The thought carried a different weight for each of them and filled them with a different sense of dread.

For Alistair it meant the end of the Grey Wardens and the legacy that Duncan had worked so hard to build and repair. It meant a world where people like Loghain remained free and alive while good men and women lay in a shallow grave that he had created. It meant a world where justice and peace could not exist because men like Loghain would ensure that they were squashed. Alistair knew that Eamon intended to put him forth as king and the idea made his blood run cold, but maybe it would not be such a bad thing if it meant that Loghain would be brought to justice and the Grey Wardens would continue. He knew that failure was not an option for them, and it filled him with a sense of terror he had never before experienced.

Oghren's thoughts were with redemption and what was left of his honor. For all of his arrogance and bravado, he was weighed down by the guilt and failures of his past. He knew that he had failed his house, his family and his marriage. There was a time when he had truly loved Branka in his own way and he had carried around the weight of her leaving and her ultimate death around with him. There was not enough ale in the world to drown out the regret of another failure and another death due to his shortcomings.

Leliana in contrast did not care if she lived or died, for she knew ultimately her death would not leave a mark on the world one way or another. If she were to die tonight she was going to take as many people as she could with her. She did not fear death, she feared dying before she had the chance to see Aedan again. All she knew for certain was that these walls were separating her from the one thing she cared about more than anything else in the world and she would cut down anyone who dared get in her way.

"Are you ready?" Alistair asked behind her. Leliana nodded stiffly as she finished tightening the bracer to her arm.

"Oghren?" Alistair asked.

A loud, watery belch escaped Oghren followed by an obscenity that caused Alistair's ears to turn red.

"Am I to take that as a yes?"

"I still don't understand why this plan is better than mine."

"We will live longer than a few seconds?" Leliana chimed in with ill-disguised annoyance.

Oghren stepped into the moonlight and Leliana was slightly taken aback by his appearance. He had traded in his armor for a simple cotton shirt and breeches, a look that did not suit him at all. Thick patches of chest hair could be seen poking out of his shirt where the top two buttons had been left undone, a sight that was not at all appealing. The breeches had questionable looking stains all over that Leliana did not care to know the origins of, but she was certain they were the reason for the foul odor she was smelling.

"Where did you find those?" Alistair asked making a face that indicated he was smelling the same foul stench.

"They're mine." Oghren replied.

"You wear these?" Alistair asked horrified.

"Well I don't sleep in my armor you half-wit. Anyway it's all I could find on such short notice since you insist on being 'cautious'. I still don't see why I have to be the fool in this little play you have planned."

"When was the last time you saw a dwarf as a city guard?" Ailstair said. "And besides, you're supposed to be a drunken murderer so you're only half lying."

"Well get me some ale and I won't have to lie at all."

"Let's just get underway." Leliana said curtly. Every second they stood out in the rain exchanging words were precious seconds that they could be searching for Aedan. A stint in Fort Drakon was not meant to be long term, and Aedan had already been in their clutches for a little over seven days. She was not even sure that he was still alive, and if he was she feared what condition he might be in. She took a deep breath and tried to shut out the terrible images that began filling her head.

* * *

Aedan Cousland knew that he was about to die. He had experienced many brushes with death in his life as a warrior, but he had never felt the life leaving his body in the way that he did now. Seven days without food, paired with the constant torture had finally taken a toll on his weakening body. Breathing was becoming more difficult, his breath was coming in short ragged gasps which was agony for his damaged ribs. His vision was blurred and the exertion of simply trying to stay awake had caused a thick layer of sweat to coat his body. The weight of his iron prison seemed to increase by the moment, causing his head to fall forward and an unbearable stiffness in his neck. Each moment that passed was increasingly more difficult to get through, and each new one that came brought with it the thought that it could be his last.

He was in more pain than he had ever experienced in his life, yet as much as he wanted the pain to end he chose instead to focus on it. He was in pain, and he was dying, there was no way around that. But he was still feeling that pain, and that meant that for now at least he was still alive. He focused on the pain, focused on feeling every ache and burn throughout his mangled body. He was not a man that was known to show fear, yet now that death was moments away from taking him he had no trouble admitting that he was afraid. Not afraid of dying itself, for he imagined that dying at this point would be a sweet release from the misery he was currently drowning in.

His father's voice rang in his ears, the same words playing repeatedly in his mind in a chant-like fashion.

 _Our son will live and make his mark upon the world._

No, it was not death that Aedan feared. It was dying without fulfilling his father's last hope for him.

Aedan had fulfilled his own goal for himself when he had plunged a dagger into Howe's heart in his own home. Aedan took satisfaction in the poetic justice that came with ending Howe's life in the walls of his own home in the way that his own family had been murdered. Yet it didn't bring him the peace that he thought it would, instead it had left him with an empty hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had gotten the revenge that he had long desired, but he had left his father's dying wish unfulfilled. And the guilt that came from that would kill him just as surely as any blade.

He was in pain. Emotional, physical and mental anguish, but he was alive.

At least for now.

* * *

"This is never going to work human." Oghren said for what felt like the tenth time in half as many minutes.

"It won't if you don't start acting you're a prisoner rather than a petulant child." Alistair threw back.

"Is that a crack about my height? Eh?"

Tensions ran high as the trio stepped through the massive oak doors of the keep. Oghren marched in between Alistair and Leliana, fully equipped in the armor of the city guard. To any unsuspecting bystander they looked every bit the part of a captive being taken to the depths of the keep by two armed guards, a sight that was not at all uncommon in recent days. A closer glance however would reveal the fear and apprehension held in each of their eyes.

"Any joke I make would simply go over your head I'm afraid."

"Listen you loose lipped-"

"Is there a problem?" A voice behind them made their hearts stop.

Nobody said a word as they slowly turned around an found themselves face to face with the captain of the guard.


	8. Chapter 8

_As happens sometimes, a moment settled and hovered and remained for much more than a moment. And sound stopped and movement stopped for much much, more than a moment. And then the moment was gone. -John Steinbeck_

* * *

Leliana felt her breath catch in her chest. The guard stared at the trio, and Leliana could not help but notice that they were the same shade of grey as Aedan's, though they held none of Aedan's warmth. They bored into her with an accusatory glint that said he knew they did not belong there, that they had been caught and were about to face very severe consequences.

Time seemed to stop as Leliana tried to form the words that would create an elaborate lie that would save them from this mess, but she was finding herself at a loss. All of her training as a bard seemed to vanish and she suddenly found herself playing the role of a frightened child, a role she was not at all suited for. Her heart was beating at an alarming rate, and she was half certain that the guard could hear her rapid heartbeats.

"Found this lout causing trouble in the tavern." Alistair said indicating to Oghren. Leliana was impressed with how steady his voice was. "Had a few too many ales and began offending the nobles with his stench. Poor noble bastard found himself at the pointy end of an ax when he objected. Stained the dress of a noble lass with the blood. Tragic."

The guard captain raised an eyebrow that indicated he did not fully believe the story he was being told. "I don't recognize you. Where were you assigned?"

"Previously assigned to Arl Howe's estate before all that nasty business with the Cousland bastard."

A surge of anger rose up in Leliana upon hearing Aedan referred to in such a way. She clenched her jaw and tried to calm herself by reminding herself that Ailstair's words were only a part of the act. Any sympathetic words towards him would only jeopardize them and their chance of success.

His words seemed to have an affect on the guard captain who shook his head sympathetically. "Butchering a man in his own home. I tell you it's a damn shame Holden insisted on dealing with the Cousland boy himself. I wasn't fond of Howe but there's something to be said for a murderer who kills in a man in cold blood within his own walls. But if I know Holden, he will be sure to deal with the warden and give him a taste of true justice."

"Justice?!" Oghren roared suddenly, causing the rest of them to jump. "I've eaten things with a higher sense of justice than you. That boy is the only decent human on this piss hole you call a surface and you have the stones to-"

"A murderer _and_ a warden sympathizer!" The captain said cutting Oghren off. "Holden will have a special punishment for you, just after he finishes with your little friend. If there is anything left of him."

Leliana felt her blood run cold. A quick glance at Alistair told her that he was feeling the same fear for the life of his closest friend.

"Is that a threat?" Oghren said, his voice showing no sign of fear.

"I assure you dwarf, it is a promise." He nodded his head towards the door leading to the depths of the prison. "Get him out of here. I can't handle his stench any longer." He turned on his heel and retreated to the side office, shutting the door with a loud snap.

"I didn't know you could act." Alistair said.

"It wasn't an act." Oghren said in a tone that was very out of character for the gruff dwarf.

"Come on," Leliana said swallowing her fear. "I want to pay a visit to this Holden."

"Leliana," Alistair said cautiously. "It sounded like, I mean, what if-"

She did not allow him to finish his thought as she strode forward towards the door that lead to an uncertain fate, and the man she loved.

* * *

Aedan was slipping in and out of consciousness. Each time that he felt himself falling unconscious, he prayed that it would be for the last time, and each time he opened his eyes, he felt an overwhelming sense of disappointment. He had no idea how long he had been left alone, or how long he had been in the keep, or even how long he had been unconscious. It had felt like only a few moments, but it could have very easily been a few hours. He tried to adjust his position to ease the tension in his wrists, and realized with slight confusion that he could no longer feel his wrists. In fact he seemed to feel hardly any pain at all anymore. He knew that it was a sure sign that he was about to die, and rather than being alarmed he found himself welcoming death like an old friend.

He heard the door open and knew who the heavy footsteps belonged to without having to look up. Days of endless torture had made him quite familiar with Holden, enough to recognize the heavy and slow footfalls. It reminded Aedan of a predator slowly circling its prey, trying to pinpoint a weakness before they pounced.

The silence was broken as Holden began slowly clapping his hands together. "I must admit warden, you have impressed me. I have been doing this a very long time, and I have never seen someone withstand so much punishment. Though rather you posses impressive strength, or you are simply stubborn remain a mystery." Holden lifted Aedan's head up, causing him to groan as the sudden movement sent waves of pain through his neck and shoulders. "Unfortunately, I am not known to be a patient man. And I grow bored of these games."

Holden stepped away and closed the door with a loud clang.

"You have finally worn out your welcome, warden."

* * *

"How do you know where you are going?" Alistair asked as Leliana led the trio through the winding halls of the keep. Leliana had taken the lead heading towards the deepest part of the fortress. The halls led deeper and deeper into the keep, eventually leading to a set of stairs the led to the dungeons. The halls had become wider and darker, with long shadows cast by the torches that lined the walls every few feet. The flames did little to add warmth to the damp, cold passage leading to the dungeon that no doubt led to the torture chamber.

"How many torture chambers have you heard of that are held on the upper floors of a building?" Leliana responded without looking over her shoulder.

"Should I be concerned about your in depth knowledge of torture chambers?" Alistair asked as they made their way even further underground.

Leliana did not respond. Truthfully, she did not even hear what he said in the first place. Her mind was too focused on her mission to allow anything to distract her from her objective. She strode down the dark hallway, her eyes focused straight ahead down the long corridor. Each step she took caused her heart rate to increase and pound loudly in her ears. The corridor seemed endless, seemingly becoming longer with each passing step. Beads of sweat had formed on her brow despite the chilled air of the dungeon which was steadily becoming colder. She knew that they were getting closer, yet the thought brought with it a sense of terror rather than relief. The guard captain's words echoed in her ears, and she found herself feeling an increasing sense of apprehension at what state they would find Aedan in. She knew he was not a weak man, and he was not going to cave under the pain that was no doubt being inflicted upon him. But Aedan had been in Holden's clutches for a week, and if he was as ruthless as he was rumored to be, Aedan would not be able to withstand much more of his cruelty.

"You there!" A voice rang out behind them. The three stopped in their tracks, turning to see a guard walking towards them. "This is a restricted area, what are you doing here?"

"Better think of a convincing lie human." Oghren said as the guard came towards them.

Leliana unsheathed her daggers from her hips and strode towards the approaching guard. "I am done with words."

* * *

Aedan summoned what little remained of his strength to lift his head up enough to look at Holden. He watched as Holden reached behind him and pulled out a small object wrapped in a black cloth. Aedan watched as he unraveled the cloth and gingerly picked up a small dagger. The blade itself was the dark color of obsidian, black as night that glinted in the light of the fire. The hilt was made from fine metal that ended with an intricate carving of a dragon head with blood red eyes made of rubies.

"What do you think warden?" Holden said as he twirled the blade in his hands. "I call it 'Bloodwake'. Beautiful isn't it? It may not seem like much, but this beauty has sent many men to the void." Holden began circling Aedan in the same predatory fashion that he so loved. Aedan felt himself shiver as Holden dragged the blade lightly across his skin. "I'll let you in on a little secret warden, but you must promise not to tell. The blade itself is not particularly dangerous, in fact it would be useless against anyone with any skill in battle. The secret to this weapon's success is a special poison that coats the edges of the blade. It's a special concoction that I invented myself after much trial and error. You don't want to know the nasty side effects that occurred with the first bastard I experimented with. I would have felt pity for him had it not been so amusing to watch him squirm as his insides slowly melted. The clean up however was far from amusing, and I was forced to try again. It took nearly a year to perfect, but I finally did."

Holden circled back around Aedan and stood directly in front of him. Aedan lifted his head as far as his body would allow and glared daggers at the man who was about to end his life. Holden remained still as he stared down at Aedan with a satisfied grin on his face before striking with cat like reflexes. He drew the blade across Aedan's chest with a speed that would have impressed him had he not been in such a dire situation. Aedan was surprised by how little pain he felt, but then again it was nothing compared to what he had been experiencing over the last few days.

Holden knelt down in front of Aedan so they were eye level. "Now comes my favorite part. I am going to tell you exactly what is about to happen to you in your final moments. It won't happen all at once, where would the fun in that be? It will start as a stirring beneath your skin, just enough to cause minor discomfort. That stirring will soon become an itch. It will be subtle at first, but soon it will become unbearable. Soon that itch will become a burn, and not long after that your blood will feel like it is on fire. And just when you think that you cannot take anymore, it will get worse and I will get to watch as you finally beg for death to end your pathetic existence."

The sound of battle coming from the halls interrupted Holden's diatribe. The satisfaction on his face was replaced by a look of confusion as he rose to his feet, giving Aedan a quick kick in the ribs before turning and exiting the room.

Aedan watched as he left, feeling the first sign of his impending death begin to stir beneath his skin.


	9. Chapter 9

**Warning: this chapter contains scenes of animal death.** **I abhor animal deaths and writing about one is even harder to stomach than watching it. While it is not overly graphic, any animal lover will no doubt find it hard to read. I did not write this to elicit a negative reaction from the readers, but rather to provide a little insight as to how a man such as Holden could turn into the monster that we have come to know. It is only a small segment, but I understand if you need to skip over this chapter.**

 **As always, reviews and insight are always welcome.**

~0~

 _There comes a time when every life goes off course. In this desperate moment who will you be? Will you let down your defenses and find solace in someone unexpected? Will you reach out? Will you face your greatest fears bravely or move forward with faith? Or will you succumb to the darkness in your soul?_

* * *

Monsters are not born, they are made. At least that is how the saying goes. While not a universal truth, it was certainly the case for many people. Holden was one such case. He had not always been the brutal torturer who took joy in deplorable sadism. He had once been a happy, boisterous young boy with a genuine love of life and a fondness for animals. That was until his father had beaten it out of him.

His mother had died during childbirth, and his father had never forgiven him for taking his beloved wife away from him. Holden's father began drinking heavily after his wife had died, and treated Holden with ill disguised resentment. Holden had never received a kind word from his father and instead of a loving touch he was gifted with repeated punches. His father would be three ales deep before he decided it was time to toughen up his soft-hearted son. He would repeatedly punch and kick his son while shouting that he needed to toughen up if he ever wanted to become a man. Holden would cry at first, but soon he realized that tears only seemed to fuel his father's rage. He soon learned how to tense his body against his father's blows, and he was able to tolerate the beatings which had become a daily routine.

When he was nine years old, he found a rabbit in the back alley that had seemingly been abandoned by his previous owner. He scooped up the shivering creature and wrapped it up in his cloak and gingerly held the animal in his arms. He brought the frightened animal back to the small hovel he shared with his father, certain that he would throw the creature back into the streets the moment that he saw it. He entered the dirty hovel and found his father crouched in front of the fire place stoking the logs. He closed the door with a quiet snap, prompting his father to look over his shoulder.

He fixed Holden with a harsh stare, immediately fixating on the small creature cradled in his arms.

"What is that?"

Holden felt his breath catch in his chest and opened his mouth to answer only to close it again. His father slowly rose to his feet and strode toward his son, towering over him. "I asked you a question, boy"

"I-it's a rabbit, Papa. I found him in the gutter, and he looked hungry. Can I keep him Papa?" His father stared at him with the same unreadable expression that always filled Holden with no small amount of dread. There was no way of knowing how his father would react to any given situation, nor was he known for his mild temper. Without warning, his father snatched the small creature from his arms and threw the poor animal against the dirty brick wall behind him. The rabbit hit the wall with a sickening crunch before falling to the ground in a limp heap.

Holden's eyes immediately filled with tears as his father's laughs rang in his ears. He clenched his fists so hard that his nails dug into the palms of his hands which shook as rage coursed through his body. His father stopped laughing, but the same evil smirk remained on his unshaven face. "Well, well. What's this then? The little man seems upset. What's wrong little man? Are you angry?"

Holden summoned all of his courage to look the man in his eyes. His father's smile widened, revealing several rotted teeth and assaulting Holden's nostrils with the overwhelming stench of ale. "What's the matter Imp? You want to hit me?"

The question threw Holden off guard, and he found himself at a loss. He had no time to offer a response as his father's fist collided with the side of his head, knocking him to the floor. "Come on, get up!" His father shouted.

Holden pushed himself up onto his knees, but a swift kick in the ribs caused him to fall flat on his face. Another kick in the ribs caused him to cry out in pain, eliciting another cruel laugh from his father. "If there is a Maker, he must truly have a sense of humor to curse me with such a useless son."

His father stormed out of the hovel, slamming the door behind him. Holden made sure his father was indeed gone before he dared to move. He pushed himself onto his hands and knees, wincing as pain shot through his body. He crawled across the filthy floor to the motionless body of the rabbit that only moments ago had been full of life. He gently picked the body off of the floor and cradled it to his chest. Tears spilled from his eyes, rolling down his cheeks and landing in the matted fur of the animal who did not deserve his fate.

As the years passed, the beatings became more frequent and more brutal. They became a daily occurrence, sometimes happening as many as three times a day. But as the time went by, his father became older and Holden became stronger. Soon he was taller and stronger than his father, and he was able to match his father blow for blow. The fights became louder, and more than once resulted in one or both of the men being thrown into a wall. It was still a miserable existence for Holden who longed to be out from his father's clutches, but at least he was no longer the helpless simpering little boy who was little more than a punching bag to his father.

When Holden passed his seventeenth name day, the chance he had been waiting for finally arrived. The Gnawed Noble Tavern was in need of a new bouncer, and due to Holden's large stature he was brought on immediately. The pay was meager, and the hours long, but Holden did not care. Every hour that he spent at the tavern was one that he did not have to spend with his father and his ale consumption. He began saving up his gold and soon he almost had enough to move out from under his father.

As the days passed, he began to fantasize about the day he would be able to walk out of his father's home for the last time. He leaned against the door frame on a particularly slow night, visualizing the small stash of gold he had managed to hide from his father and wondering how much bigger it would have to grow before he was able to afford to live on his own. He gave a huge yawn and gave a half glance towards the entrance as the door swung open. He froze as his eyes settled on the new arrival, his mouth hanging open as he marveled at the young woman who had walked in.

Her raven colored hair which fell just passed her shoulders was weaved into an intricate braid. One strand had come loose, and fell in front of her delicate, youthful face. Her bright blue eyes stood out against the deep olive color of her skin that held a small scattering of freckles across her nose. Her face looked tired yet kind, and her rose colored lips were full and soft.

Holden had never before experienced a moment where he could feel his whole life change until that night. Time seemed to slow down as he watched her gracefully glide across the room and setting into the nearest table. Her eyes flitted in his direction, causing his mouth to snap close and his ears to burn red. A shy smile formed on her lips as her eyes fell to her lap where her hands were clasped.

Holden was not unattractive, in fact compared to most people in his social standing he was quite handsome. Yet he had never had any luck with the opposite sex. Though rather this was because he had never actually tried, or because of his notoriously violent home life he couldn't say with certainty.

"Are you going to go to say hello or stand here gawking like a love-struck fool?" The voice of his fellow bouncer Gil snapped him out of his trance. Holden stiffened his shoulders and tried to regain some of his dignity.

"No idea what you're talking about."

"Come off it," Gil snorted. "I don't even like women yet even I wouldn't mind settling myself down between those legs." Holden felt the blush return to his ears. "And besides, I could practically smell the pheromones when you set eyes on her. So stop standing here like a virginal chantry boy and go get her."

He gave Holden a small shove before he could protest, causing him to stagger forward, catching the attention of the girl. Her eyes met his and she offered him another shy smile that made his heart beat at an alarming rate. He did his best to return the smile but he felt foolish and awkward as he approached her.

"I was wondering if you were ever going to come over here." Her voice was soft and angelic, a perfect match to her appearance.

Holden offered a nervous laugh as he rubbed his hand over the back of his neck as he always did when he was under stress. "Well you see, I had to make sure you weren't dangerous first."

"Oh?"

"Yes. You see it's my job to make sure this place stays safe, you can never be too careful with folks who come in here. Never know who might cause trouble."

A small smile crossed her lips. "I see. And are you quite certain that I am not a villainous scoundrel about to wreak havoc on the place? I mean after all, you can never be too careful in your line of work can you?"

Holden felt his confidence growing and slipped into the seat opposite of her. "Ah, well you see I happen to be an excellent judge of character. I can determine if you are dangerous with a few simple questions."

The girl leaned forward slightly. "Oh? And what questions would those be?"

"Where are you from?"

"Lothering. I came here with my mother and my sister not two weeks ago."

"Ah, Lothering. A quiet town, not much in the way of civil disobedience or debauchery."

"You clearly haven't been to the right part of town." The girl replied with a sly smile.

Holden returned the smile, feeling his previous apprehension begin to fade.

"Next question. What do you do for work?"

"Seamstress."

"Honest work."

"And you believe me just like that?" The girl said. "I could just as easily be an assassin."

"Lothering has an assassin's guild now? I truly must not have been to the right parts of town."

The girl laughed softly, a sound that Holden could see himself listening to forever.

"Last question. When can I see you again?"

"A follow up interrogation then?"

"Well like you said, you can never be too careful right?"

The girl smiled as she rose to her feet. "Hmm. Well I suppose I could stop in again tomorrow after I finish my work. That is, if I manage to complete all of my marks. You know how busy the assassin life can be."

Holden returned the smile. "Well then I wish you luck with your endeavors. I certainly hope I do not end up to be one of your unfortunate victims."

A look came across the girl's face that he could not identify, but it lingered for only a moment before her previously pleasant demeanor returned. "Oh, I wouldn't worry. I am not accepting anymore contracts."

"Wait." Holden said as she girl turned to leave. He instinctively reached out to grab her wrist, feeling a strange jolt at the feel of her soft skin. He was quite certain she was experiencing the same feeling, but he could not be sure if he had simply imagined it.

"What is your name?"

"An interrogation where the interrogator forgets to ask for a name? My, I do feel safe."

"I promise to ask something deeply personal the next time I see you to make up for it."

"I'm going to hold you to that," she said with a smirk. "And my name is Emilia."

He released his grip on her wrist and she turned to leave, appearing to glide out of the tavern. He continued to stare at the door long after she left, certain that his entire life had just changed.

To his surprise, Emilia did return the next night. And the night after, and every night after for the next several months. For the first time in his life he had something to look forward to. He had a reason to fight through his miserable existence and find something to hope for. Holden was falling in love for the first time, and as each day passed, he found it harder and harder to picture his life without her.

By the fourth month, Holden was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was the girl he was meant to spend his life with. He awoke one morning and before he had even left his bed, he had made the decision that he would ask Emilia to marry him. He was certain he had enough gold put away for them to start a decent life somewhere far away from Denerim. Maybe they could start anew in Lothering.

He awoke and hastily dressed, doing his best not to wake his father. He knew that his father would do his best to beat the happiness out of him, but the joy in Holden's heart was so pure and genuine he was sure that there was nothing his father could do to hurt him now.

Still, best to avoid any unnecessary trouble.

He headed to the Tavern, feeling a slight spring in his step. His heart was light, and for the first time in his life he knew what the bards meant when they sang of love and happiness. He entered the Tavern, not surprised to see a few of the patrons from the previous night. Holden approached the owner of the place, and presented his request to have the evening off. The old man gave a big, toothless smile as he heard Holden's words and immediately agreed to his request. He shook Holden's hand firmly, insisting on being the first to congratulate him.

The heat of the sun greeted him as he stepped into the market. The vendors were going about delicately setting up their wares, strategically placing them in a way that would ensure a sale would be made. The glint of the jeweler's wares caught his eye, catching his attention. He strode over to the large wooden stand, immediately attracting the attention of the aging vendor.

"Something I can help you with, dear?" The woman said kindly.

He ran his hand over the back of his neck, suddenly feeling inexperienced and foolish. "I-uh. I'm not sure."

The woman offered an understanding smile. He was certainly not the first young man who had stumbled in looking for the perfect gift for his sweetheart. She pulled out an ancient wooden chest from beneath her stand and set it down on the stall with a small grunt. She opened the lock and pushed the chest towards Holden for him to look through.

A large emerald hanging at the end of a beautiful gold chain immediately caught his eye. He pulled the item out of the chest, holding it delicately in his large hand. A half dozen smaller diamonds surrounded the emerald, giving the piece a truly exquisite appearance. Holden held it up to the sun, nodding his approval as he visualized it hanging from the delicate neck of his lady love.

"I'll take it." He said. He did not ask the price, he did not care to. He would have gladly paid a year's salary for the gift to see how it would fit around Emilia's neck. It was the perfect thing to present to her to show how deep his affection ran.

He walked toward his father's hovel for what he hoped would be the final time. After tonight he would no longer be forced to live under his father's abuse and scrutiny. He would take the gold he had saved up and beg Emilia to run away with him and start a new life wherever she wanted. He did not care where they ended up as long as it was not Denerim.

His heart was light as he wandered through the busy street, his mind swimming with visions of a future with the woman he loved. He imagined finding good paying work to provide for her so she would have the life she deserved. Maybe in a mine, or maybe even a city guard. He imagined coming home to her and a home cooked meal, being greeted by the woman he loved. Maybe they would even have children one day if it was something she wanted. He was sure that he would be a good father. He certainly was sure of the kind of father he did **not** want to be.

The journey to the hovel seemed to take no time, and for the first time he found that he did not dread entering. He pushed the door open on its hinges, the familiar squeak meeting his ears as he stepped inside. The sight that greeted him stopped him in his tracks and made his blood run cold.

His father was in the corner of the dirty hovel, his breeches down to his ankles. He was grunting loudly and panting heavily as his hips bucked wildly into the delicate frame of Emilia. They were so involved in the act that they did not notice him enter. He stood completely still in the door frame, his heart unable to process what his mind was seeing.

The two of them shifted, and Emilia's eyes met Holden's from over his father's shoulder. She let out a squeal that had nothing at all to do with pleasure. His father seemed far less concerned as he looked over his shoulder, offering his son a nasty sneer as he pulled out of Emilia. He crudely wiped himself with the bottom of his shirt before pulling his breeches up. Emilia stumbled as she hurried to cover herself.

"Well, well. I was wondering when this would all come out. No pun intended." He let out a cruel laugh.

Holden refused to look at him, his eyes were fixated on the woman he loved. She was no longer the same angelic woman who had walked into his tavern so many months before. She no longer held the same delicate beauty that had once taken his breath away. He no longer recognized this woman, and he was unable to feel anything but hatred towards her and his father.

He shifted his eyes to his father, who wiped a stream of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Did you really think that a worthless lout like you would ever be able to get a woman? I paid her to bed you, and you couldn't even manage that! So rather than see my money go to waste, I decided to partake of the spoils. And let me tell you boy, you missed out."

Holden felt something inside him snap. The combination of betrayal, heartache and humiliation proved too much for his soul to bear. Before he had time to realize what he was doing, he reached for the fireplace poker and hit his father in the head with all the strength that he could muster. Emilia screamed as blood spurted from his father's head and splattered across the wall. The man fell to the floor, knocking the various figurines off the mantle as he fell.

A lifetime of built up pain and anger finally broke loose from Holden. He continued his assault on his father, delivering blow after blow, even after he had fallen still. Blood splattered across his face and arms, but he did not care. All he could think of was doing as much damage to his bastard of a father before the guards came and took him away.

He was not sure how may times he hit his father's head, but when he had finished the man was completely unrecognizable. Holden finally relented his assault on the man, breathing heavily as spittle flew from his mouth.

His attention turned to Emilia who stared at him in horror. The blood coating his face and the murderous look in his eyes gave him a truly terrifying appearance. He threw the poker aside, reaching into his pocket for the necklace he had purchased only moments before. Emilia tried to run, but Holden held out his foot causing her to fall flat in her face.

She made an attempt to crawl away, but Holden sat on top of her holding her in place. She struggled beneath him, but she was no match for his size. He gripped the chain in both of his hands and pressed it against her throat until she was gasping for air. His previous assumption proved to be correct-it did in fact look beautiful around her delicate neck.

Her fingers tried in vain to pry his hands from her neck, which only made his grip stronger. Something about the feel of her struggling, and the sound of her gasping for air gave him a very powerful feeling. And he liked it. He liked it very much.

Emilia gurgled for several moments, before the life finally left her body and she slumped forward in a lifeless heap. Holden finally released his grip and rose from the now lifeless body beneath him. He studied her face, and found that death suited her. A strange feeling surged through him as he looked at her still form, and knowing that he had been the one to take her life excited him in a way that no woman ever had before. He was suddenly aware that his breeches had become very tight, and he adjusted himself awkwardly.

He surveyed the area and what he had done and felt a sense of pride. His father had been wrong, he did in fact have a skill. The elation was short lived, as he was sure someone would have alerted the city guard of the racket. He knew he could not stay here any longer, and quite frankly he did not care. He pulled up the loose floorboard by his bed and retrieved the gold he had managed to save up. He took one last look around the hovel before leaving for the final time.

After that day, Holden stopped feeling. He no longer believed in love, or kindness or any form of human decency. Humans were the worst form of life in the world, the lowest and most loathsome creatures that ever existed. They were the only creatures capable of inflicting pain on each other for the simple reason that they could. There was no rhyme or reason to the cruelty and the pain. It was just human nature. And Holden had come to hate all forms of human life.

That was what made Holden so good at the position he now held as the most notorious torturer to ever set foot inside Fort Drakon. His disregard for all human life made his cruelness and sadism highly effective for extracting information from even the most stubborn prisoner. Nothing satisfied him more than the knowledge that he held the power to inflict the maximum amount of pain on the poor bastards that set foot in his domain.

Each night when he returned to his quarters, he felt a sense of satisfaction of knowing that he had done his job effectively when one of his victims were sent back to their cell in much worse shape than they had arrived in. When his day was finished, he would return to the solitude of his private quarters and pour himself an ale. He would go to the small cage he kept in the corner that contained the only creature he allowed himself to care for. He would gingerly lift the aging rabbit out of his cage and sit in the large chair in front of the fireplace. He would gently stroke the soft fur of his only friend, staring into the fire and sipping the ale while losing himself in his own mind.

He knew that this was the only way to live; alone. That was how he had chosen to live, and how he intended to die. And he would make sure he would send as many people as he could ahead of him.


End file.
